


That's What He Said

by CAPSING



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Ableist Language, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Explicit Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAPSING/pseuds/CAPSING
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider-Man comes out of the closet. Peter Parker would give anything to crawl back in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What He Said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drsquee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drsquee/gifts).



> This is what happens when you tempt me with long discussions about bisexual Peter. 
> 
> WARNING: Though short, the story revolves around Homophobia and contains very offensive language and acts; Peter undergoes inexplicit sexual assault. There are mentions of suicide rates. Please consider this before reading. 
> 
> Also, a dedication for a special someone:  
> ~ Here’s a story idea for how Deadpool and Spider-Man get married and their children save the world. ~
> 
> You know who you are ;)

At first the words don’t register; he’s too busy making sure the agent beneath him isn’t suffering from a critical injury and has all of his limbs, patting his torso frantically.

When they do, his hands freeze on the man’s hips.

Peter’s filled with an indescribable emotion; something tears inside of him, something shatters, and something else wants to scream and lash out and break everything.

He swallows thickly.

 

“Get off of me!” the agent scolds at him.

Peter, however, is too shocked to move; he continues sitting, straddled, upon the other man.

 ‘No,’ he tries to convince himself, ‘he didn’t –“

 

Then a hand shoves him harshly backwards.

“Fucking fag.”

*

It starts with a poorly-designed flyer that’s forced into his hands by a grumpy teenager. He boards the bus and skims it, then frowns and actually reads it.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=vrew5c)

He keeps reading even when it hurts his eyes, feeling his mouth growing dry. As soon as he’s home he connects his laptop to the nearest socket and delves into this unexplored world of statistics and violence.

He only stops reading when his eyes are dry and his alarm clock rings over the cooing pigeons that took to his planter.

 

Peter tries – and fails – to put this new information behind him. It follows him throughout the following weeks, gnawing at his conscience, ripping at his heart.

 

The opportunity comes up when J.J. sends him to cover a local event – (“ _Couple of homos in dresses and heels making fools out of themselves_ –“) – and Peter grits his teeth and nods.

 ‘I’m going to help people’, he convinces himself as he zips up his suit and adjusts the shoes he borrowed from MJ. ‘I’m going to show them there’s nothing to be ashamed about.’

 

So he lets the words out next to Jenna Rator, a Drag Queen a foot taller than him (even with the heels), dressed in a sparkling red dress. She squeaks in delight and leaps into his arms moments after to the cheers of the masses.

Peter chuckles when she kisses his cheek, blushing under his mask.

He feels happy.

 

It doesn't last long.

 

The next day, the comments vary from a publicity stunt to heated discussions about a sexual deviant prying on innocent boys from outside their bedroom windows.

Three days after, Rhino slams him into concrete and cops-a-feel. Peter freezes, shocked, as Rhino speaks repulsive things in lewd tones that make Peter sick to his stomach.

(He doesn't get any sleep that night. Two days and seven showers after, he still feels the traces of the contact upon his skin. He washes the suit five times.)

 

It gets worse.

 

Police officers he knows by name flinch from him when he approaches to give them details about the crimes he prevented. Their eyes are different when they look at him. It takes him a while to understand this is not the same way they looked at him when they considered him their hero.

The Bugle rips into him more than ever before; they somehow print a four pages long article about guys who swear that Spider-Man sexually assaulted them under the protection his mask offers him. One of the men is a convict that shot and killed a pregnant woman in a bank robbery. The other is a forty-three years old firefighter called Vincent. Peter had dislocated his shoulder when he took the hit of a falling burning beam for him.

He doesn't know which one makes him feel worse.

 

Peter takes a week off work because he’s not sure he’ll be able to avoid punching J.J. in the face if they cross paths. His bank account doesn't approve. His bills don’t either, but he has little choice in the matter.

 

He avoids the internet at all costs.

 

His fellow-heroes tell him they accept him just the way he is.

They find it all very amusing, actually – and he has to fake a laugh at another _I’ll-keep-my-soap-close_ joke; at dozens of ‘ _no homo!’_ ; at endless guys that approach him to inquire ‘does that mean you’re attracted to me?’ and even one ‘How’d you rate my butt?’ from a person he barely exchanged any words with.

 

“Wanna hit the showers?” Peter asks, sweaty, after a training session.

“Aye,” Thor claims, grinning.

“Maybe later,” Steve squeaks and disappears. 

Thor warps an arm around Peter’s shoulder, leading him down the hall as he babbles about glory and strength and worthiness.

Peter feels anything but.

*

They’re in a fight.

One might even call it battle, even – with Doombots lasering at each and every possible direction and pony-sized, acid-spitting creatures crawling upon the buildings. The Avengers called for back-up; other than Peter there are some X-Men and Sue and plenty of reckless SHIELD agents that want to play _hero_.

 

Five hours in and sixteen annoying comments about his sexual identity later, Peter barely saves an agent from imitating a cell and splitting in two, tackling him to the ground.

 

“Keep your hands to yourself, faggot.” The man says, and Peter has had it.

 

“You were about to die,” he rasps out in disbelief. “You can’t possibly –“

The man snorts as he stands up.

“As if. I've read all about your stories, trying to lie your way and feed your perverse fantasies, but you’re not –“

 

“Spider-Man!” Steve snaps through his ear piece.

“We need you here! We can’t keep –“

“Stop trying to pick-up dudes and get going!” someone snarls, cutting Steve’s orders.

 

“Screw you.”

There’s static.

“Screw you.” Peter chokes out, wishing he had something wittier to say. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Is little Spidey gonna c-“

He rips the earpiece out, throwing it to the ground. He slams his foot down and creates the remains of the earpiece their own customized crater.

*

Peter tries to cry; he needs to rid himself of this abstract pain, to purge himself from whatever twists his guts.

He can’t.

His morals scream at him to get back there and help; but what good did they do? He thinks, bitter. They’re the ones that got him to this situation in the first place. Peter Parker didn't need to face this; he was foolish enough to think he could avoid the fallout raining down upon his alter-ego.

Why did Spider-Man have to deal with it? Why couldn't Stark? At least he has enough money for a therapist.

So he curls on the roof listening to his city exploding, anxious about Sue and Kitty, feeling like an idiot for not getting up and going back to fight alongside them.

‘Uncle Ben would've been so disappointed in me’, Peter thinks, and buries his face between his knees.

 

“Baby-boy!”

Peter flinches.

“Go away, Deadpool.”

The man clucks his tongue in disapproval.

“Is that a way to treat an old friend?”

“We’re not friends.” Peter clenches his jaw, not looking up.

(That’s a lie, though. Three years ago, Peter never would've allowed himself to lower his guard next to Deadpool, keeping him within sight. He literally never turned his back to him. Three years ago, Peter never would've sat in such a position before him.)

 

“Spidey, you wound me!” The man whines. “At least a fellow friend in the community?”

Peter snaps up like a coiled spring, getting into Deadpool’s space in a blink.

“I've had it with those jokes. I've had it with those passive-aggressive comments. Yes, I’m bisexual. No, I don’t want to have a threesome. No, I don’t want to have sex with you. No, I wasn't looking at your ass. In fact, your ass holds the least possible interest to me. A dying snail in Zimbabwe is more interesting than your ass. I don’t care if you drop your soap because if you’re unhygienic enough to use a soap that fell to the floor of a communal shower I won’t touch you with a ten-foot-long-pole, and no, that’s not _what he said_ , so shut the fuck up.”

Peter’s panting , chest aching.

Deadpool looks down at him for a moment.

Then he bursts into laughter.

That just makes Peter want to punch him even more. His fists are shaking at his sides, his teeth cut through his lower lip.

“Oh man, you should’ve seen you.” Deadpool says between chuckles. “God, you’re adora –“

 

Peter punches him in the face.

Or at least, he tries to.

Deadpool dodges swiftly; he catches Peter’s arm while it’s still outstretched, twists it, turns Peter and slams him down to the floor. A blade presses down his throat.

“Hey,” Deadpool says; the amusement is gone from his voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You have a knife to my throat. Your knee is going to pop my left kidney.” Peter grunts from the ground.

“You’re avoiding the question,” Deadpool twists his arm further, causing Peter to hiss. “What’s eating you, Spidey?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, angry. “Let go.”

“Not until you tell me.”

Peter chest hurts. He wants – he wants to tell someone, he wants someone to tell him they understand, he wants to _so badly_ , but he can’t he can’t do this he can’t deal with it because Deadpool is going to laugh at his face and _what if Wade’s going to do it too_ –

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He tries, but suddenly it’s too much, it’s too hard. He doesn't want to say it out loud. It shouldn't matter, _but it does_ , it’ll make it – and he can’t –

 

An immense explosion rips through the sky. The shockwaves thrum throughout the building. Deadpool’s hand is steady – the blade never so much as nicks Peter’s suit.

 

“Spidey,” Deadpool says. “I get that you’re in some kind of an emotional crisis right now. Mental breakdown. Whatever. Been there, done that, y’know. How about we put a pin on it, kick some Doombots’s butts, slice some alien’s guts, then go to my place to continue this potential heart-to-heart? Because I hate to break it to you, but if Fury was desperate enough to get _me_ , things must be pretty bad.”

 

Peter contemplates.

 

“Come on, who’s gonna cover my back?”

Then there’s silence.

Peter hasn't realized he’s been holding his breath, waiting for a punchline. Something about a back entrance, about taking him between the covers, about –

He looks up; Deadpool isn't pinning him down anymore.

He offers a hand to Peter.

Peter takes it.

*

It takes three more hours after that. Peter slowly unwinds; Deadpool is being unusually cheerful. His chatter nibbles and nips at Peter until he relents into a conversation about nothing in particular.

Wade saves him twice, pinning him to different surfaces. When he steps back, he asks Peter if he’s okay. The second time, he offers him a Dr. Pepper from one of his pouches.

“Indirect kissing!” he claims happily as he snatches the can away after Peter barely had a chance to gulp something down.

 

When Peter chuckles, he doesn't have to fake it.

*

The battle’s finale somehow comes to them, along with the rest of the team. They’re all long past the point of exhaustion, and spare comments to merely barked orders; even Deadpool’s chatter ceased, replaced with heavy panting through his mask.

Peter makes sure to stick close to him.

*

“Spider-Man, a word, if you’d please.” Steve says when they’re all done, his tone light.

Peter can feel the stares. He can’t remember if he could do it before the bite; it doesn't matter much, anyway. With each careful step, the whispers buzz in his ears like bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

Peter leans on his left leg to spare his sprained ankle, rubbing his arm.

“Listen, I’m sorry about – about what I said. But I’m actually pretty tired, so if we could maybe do it later –“

“I bet you’d like to do him later,” the voice of the same agent who Peter rescued carries around the wreckage. “Wouldn’t yo–“

 

Then there’s a bang and a scream.

 

“That’s what you get for your poor shipping choices.” Deadpool chirps at his direction, then swipes a look around. “Listen up, fucktards. Next person I hear talking shit about my baby-boy is going to find themselves getting a lovely view of the sky when I blow their house up.” His blank white eyes stare down at the fallen agent, who’s clutching his bloody knee, whimpering in pain. “Don’t worry about the burns, though. I've got a badge for Fire-Management during my time in the Girl-Scouts. I’ll make sure to piss on your corpses.”

 

Deadpool’s boots are loud as they crush the rubble.

“C’mon, baby-boy. That icecream ain’t gonna eat itself.”

He crouches down before Peter, looking over his shoulder. Peter stares for a moment, then wordlessly limps forwards, hesitatingly wrapping his arms around Deadpool’s thick neck.

 

“Thanks,” Peter barely whispers when they’re out of earshot.

“I’m not entirely without interests here, you know,” Deadpool says conversationally, making Peter’s heart speed up.

“You’re not?”

“Hell no. After the ice-cream you’re totally doing my nails. Bob is fucking awful at it.”

 

Later, it turns out Peter is pretty awful at painting nails, too.

“Worst paint-job ever.” Deadpool mutters angrily as he regards his hands.

“I’m revoking your gay-card.”

“Too late,” Peter says. “Now give me your foot.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always much appreciated :)  
> *  
> Flyer sources from Wikipedia under ‘Suicide among LGBT youth’ and ‘Trandgender youth’;
> 
> "Preventing Suicide among Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgendered, and Questioning Youth and Young Adults" (PDF). Retrieved 2011-08-21.  
> "Additional Facts About Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Youth". Thetrevorproject.org. Retrieved 2011-08-21.  
> Grossman, Arnold H., and Anthony R. D'Augelli. "Transgender Youth and Life‐Threatening Behaviors." Suicide and Life-Threatening Behavior 37.5 (2007): 527-537.
> 
> (I have a bibliography for a fanfic. I don’t even.)


End file.
